


Cherry Cream by Steinsgrrl

by steinsgrrl



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-10
Updated: 2011-10-10
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steinsgrrl/pseuds/steinsgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was always Tom's dream to move to L.A. Once there, he found that it wasn't everything he'd hoped it would be.</p><p>At least until he showed up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Cream by Steinsgrrl

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2011 FQF on LiveJournal from a prompt by domina_malfoy - Tom gets a summer job at an ice cream parlour with the only perk being free ice cream. It isn’t long before a new perk, in the form of a hot and flirty regular customer, is added to the very short list. Tom doesn’t mind his job so much anymore.  
> Huge thanks to Fyredancer, miriamel and Gaja for the awesome betas.

Everybody loves L.A., right?

Not me; I hated it.

No, really, I hated it. You might think that the sun and the surf and the movie stars would be glamorous and fun, but if you want the honest truth, this place sucks.

Let me tell you this: I moved here from the Midwest. From a red state full of conservatives. I never fit in, you know? When I first dreaded my hair and got my lipring, people would stare at me. I put in the cornrows and they snickered. The baggy clothes I used to wear? Yeah, they would point. Literally point and laugh. They don't understand fashion and they don't understand style. All they understand out there is cows and corn. So I made a plan to move to L.A. That's where all the action is, right? That's where all the girls are...and boys, too. Not gonna lie, I'm an equal opportunity kinda guy.

So I scrimped and saved all through high school, doing odd jobs and sometime skipping out on dates with hot, _hot_ , willing...ugh, my stomach aches to think of it. Just to save money to come...here.

Here to California. Where the cost of living is so high that what I'd saved hadn't barely covered first and last month's rent and furnished the dingy, tiny apartment I found, even with second hand everything. Yeah, I was dumb and didn't research enough. Believe me, I smacked myself in the forehead plenty of times for that. 

So my point is that when I got here, I was desperate for a job. Not just any job—I'm not _that_ desperate or dumb. I know about people so green that they get off the bus, meet the guy who says he'll make them a star, and BAM!--they're in porn. Nah, that's not for me. 

So I needed a job, and that's how I ended up here, working at an ice cream stand, right at the edge of the beach. It sounds like the perfect job for a young guy like me, right? 

Wrong. First, it's fucking hot out here. Like, I'm wearing swim trunks and a wife beater and I'm still sweating my ass off. Except right over the buckets of ice cream, where it's freezing. Boss has got one hell of a refrigeration system under there, because when I lean over the buckets to scoop the ice cream, the chill goes right up my arms to my armpits and my nipples go hard as diamonds. 

Not everything about the job sucks, though. First off, I get free ice cream, which kicks ass, but the view is good, too. I get to see the ocean, which is honestly breathtaking, but god knows I don't wanna go in. It's fucking freezing, too! I've been to the east coast and the ocean on that side of the country is nice and warm, but this side, man...I'd freeze my nuts off. So when I lock up and go on break, I just sit out in the sun, grab a cone and whatever breeze I can and look at the view.

The girls are damn nice looking. Hotter than the California sun in their barely-there bikinis, if I'm gonna be trite about it, but goddamn, they're uppity! They must have rich daddies or something, because I guess they don't have to be nice to some poor ice cream vender like me. Hey, don't get me wrong—some of the girls are really nice. But mostly, I get the cold shoulder. No pun intended.

The guys don't really notice me. Most of them come here to get ice cream for their girl, or their kids or something. I'm a guy, the one who scoops the ice cream and that's the only purpose I have. And I guess that's okay. Or it was, until _he_ showed up.

He showed up on a Friday afternoon. Impossible as it seems, with as many people crowding the beach as there are in the summer, you get to learn people's faces. Not their names, but their faces...or their bodies, depending. But this guy, I hadn't seen before. I was scooping up three waffle cones for the mom standing in front of the booth, her hair looking frizzy and frazzled, even tied up on top of her head. Around her legs squirmed three children of various heights, all of them grabbing at her legs and tugging at her suit bottom, whining loudly for two scoops, or strawberry, or sprinkles, or anything but what they were getting. Mom looked at me with desperate eyes that begged me to please go faster, but she didn't have to worry; I wanted them to shut up, too! So I busted my ass to fill her order, and just as I handed the last cone over, a man stepped up to the booth. His hair was long and straight and coppery brown. His eyes glinted green and his body almost made me drop that damn cone before I came to my senses. 

The mom took the treat gratefully, handing it down to the last kid scrabbling at her as she turned and threw a “Thanks,” over her shoulder. Then it was just me and this fine looking man. 

"Yes, sir?” I threw those Midwest manners in, thinking it couldn't hurt, but he barely gave me a second glance. He studied the flavors and pointed at a cask of blue ice cream.

"What kind is that?” he asked, still perusing.

"Birthday Cake.”

That caught his attention. He looked up, brows furrowing in confusion. “Birthday cake.”

"Yep,” I replied with a nod.

"But...if people want birthday cake, why don't they just have birthday cake? Or an ice cream cake?” He tilted his head as he asked, looking at me like I was the ice cream king and I sure as hell should know this. 

I, however, didn't know a damn thing but that I could barely think with this guy looking at me.

"Uh, well.” I stammered until I caught myself and my face felt hotter than the damn sand all around us. “I don't know. Kids like it, I guess.”

The man seemed to think about it for a moment, then gave a nod and shrug that looked like acceptance. “Okay, makes sense,” he replied, and he looked at me like he'd just noticed I was there. Like he'd just laid eyes on me, and he looked like he liked what he saw.

"Yeah,” I said, as the moment stretched on with him still just... _looking_. “So, um. Did you want...” I gestured toward the sixteen flavors of ice cream in front of me.

He blinked once, and again, before letting his eyes drop to the ice cream. “Oh. Yeah, chocolate.” 

"Cone?” I asked, reaching for the three different kinds of cones hanging from the dispenser to my right.

"Waffle sounds good.” He nodded, handed me three dollar bills and watched as I reached for the right cone. 

The guy was hot and I didn't mind him looking me up and down, but I wished I had his eyes off me just now. Just for a moment. The guy made me forget to how breathe and that was never a good thing when you needed blood going to your brain.

I loaded up his waffle cone, making sure to stuff some ice cream in the bottom before stacking two scoops of creamy chocolate on top. Just being out of the refrigeration unit, it was already starting to melt. 

"Alrighty,” I said to get his attention, which was lame, but remember what I said about lack of blood to the brain? 

The man looked up and his eyes widened a little. “I didn't pay for two scoops,” he said, and my belly squirmed as I realized he'd been so busy looking at me, he hadn't noticed what I was doing.

Trying desperately to keep from breaking out into a goofy grin, I shrugged a shoulder as I handed the ice cream over. “My treat,” I said, and I swear, I melted as he pinned me with his eyes again. They twinkled as he smiled and gave the chocolate a long lick, starting at the bottom and twirling the ice cream right over his tongue until he licked it into his mouth. His tongue slipped out again and swiped at his lips and he still hadn't taken those green eyes off of me. 

Any other thought that didn't have to do with that mouth and what I'd like to do with it flew right out of my head. I was a hard, sweaty mess, and the man grinned on.

"Thanks,” he said, then winked and took another long lick. 

Okay, when this guy had checked me out before, I wasn't sure if he was flirting. He could have just been looking, right? But that lick? And that wink? Dude was definitely flirting. 

"So, um.” I started, eloquent as ever. “Maybe we could--”

"Georg!” A girlish squeal pierced my eardrums and I winced with the pain as a short, curvy female came running through the sand and skidded to a halt in front of my gorgeous customer. She grabbed onto his arm to steady herself and panted, her chest heaving and barely covered by a yellow bikini top. “There you are! I'm sorry it took so long to get here; you wouldn't believe the traffic!”

Georg shot a look at me that read something like disappointment, and my stomach sank. Well, fuck.

"Hey,” the girl said, finally seeming to notice me and what Georg was doing here. “What did you get me?” 

Georg laughed. “What do you want?” he asked, pulling another three dollars out of the tiny pocket on the front of his swim trunks. 

She perused the flavors like this was the most important decision of her life, and it might have been. Her hair looked like it was salon-dyed blond, her tan looked sprayed on and the stones in her jewelry looked like they were all real, and I'd have bet she didn't have to pay for any of it. Suddenly, she looked up, pointing at something in the glass case.

"Is that Birthday Cake?” she asked, licking her bottom lip.

It took everything I had not to send a raised brow in Georg's direction.

"Yes, ma'am,” I answered, ever polite.

"Oh, good!” She grinned and bounced on her toes, everything jiggling as she looked back at Georg. “That's the one I want.”

Georg nodded to me and the girl hanging on his shoulder squealed. I got her scoop ready (just _one_ for her, dammit) and handed it over as quickly as possible, trying not to look at Georg again, even as I took his dollar bills. I nodded in his direction at his thanks and busied myself putting the money in the till, but he didn't leave. I could feel him still looking, and when I finally looked up, the girl was pulling on his free hand.

"Let's go! It's hot and I want to get down to the water.”

Georg gave me one last look, licked absently at his cone, and turned to follow the girl who was chatting away in front of him and tugging him along.

I sighed and slumped to rest my arms on the top of the ice cream case. The dude was hot. He was definitely my type: built but not muscle-bound, chiseled features, gorgeous eyes, hair...and yeah, I'd be lying if I said I didn't check out his package. God, how I wanted to unwrap that. But he has a girlfriend. I shook my head. Little fucker was flirting with me when he has a girlfriend, and as liberal as I am, that just isn't cool. So, I guess, so much for that.

* * *

So much for that, right? Yeah, so much for that, except that I couldn't get that guy, Georg, out of my head. We hadn't talked much, but I swear, I went to bed with him every night for a week. Well, with my right hand and him in mind, anyway. 

I saw him a few times after that, always on a Friday and always with the same girl. Sometimes there were other girls with them, squealing and bouncing their way to the shoreline. Some of them even seemed to flirt with Georg, and his girlfriend waved their antics away, laughing at them. It seemed like they must have been together for a while for her to be that confident. It didn't stop my fantasies, though. No harm in that, right?

And then I actually talked to him again, and I know I blushed from head to toe because of the things I'd done to that gorgeous body in my mind. Georg didn't seem to notice. He just stood there, in front of the ice cream buckets, perusing. Sans girlfriend.

"Got anything new?” he asked, glancing up while he ran one thick finger across the front of the display, and my eyes followed it. 

"Nah,” I managed to breathe, though just barely. It was pissing me off how my body was reacting to him, especially since my head knew he was taken. But goddamn, I'd have to be dead to not get hard around him. And maybe I would, even then. 

He stopped the trail of his finger just at a pink bucket in the front of the case. “Strawberry?”

"Cherry cream,” I answered, and he caught my eyes and held them solid.

"Cherry,” he said, smirking. “Cherry cream? That sounds...” he paused, his eyes glinting, and I knew what he was going to say before the word even slipped out from between his lips. “...dirty.”

My face flamed and my cock grew harder than ever before, straining against the mesh inside my swim trunks and bumping against the back of the display case.

"Yeah, I'd like some Cherry Cream, please,” Georg said, fishing the dollar bills out of his trunks pocket and handing them over with a grin that could only be described as lascivious. Holy shit. 

My brain fizzled but my body was trained well enough to reach out and grab those bills and stuff them in the till before I knew what I was doing. The repetition of the job kicked in and I choked as I asked, “What kind of cone?”

Georg made a pretense of looking over the choices, though there were only three, and then licked his lips. “Sugar.” 

I'm not a virgin--I've had my share of action with both men and women. None of them affected me like the man in front of this little ice cream stand. None of them made my hands shake and my dick hard as fucking granite without even touching it. None of them. And he was flirting with me and I was not immune. Not at all.

I stuffed that cone as quickly as I could and stacked two scoops on top, just as I'd done for him before. I passed it over the top of the display and my trembling hands fumbled just as he reached to take it. His fingers were warm and strong as they wrapped around mine, steadying the cone and holding it there between us. 

My breath caught and stuck in my chest as his thumb stoked softly over my knuckle before he slipped the cone out of my hand. He brought it to his lips and took a long, decadent lick of the ice cream, his eyes never leaving mine. Again. 

"Thank you,” he said, with a lick of his lips, and I swallowed hard. He watched me the whole time he devoured that cone, and thank fuck that no one came to the stand while he was there, because my brain was pretty much mush. I tried to think of something to say...small talk, anything, but nothing was coming to mind. Nope, I just stared, my dick twitching in my pants with every decadent moan he gave, with each long lick of his tongue, and the tip of it leaked a stain into my shorts.

Georg got to the bottom of his cone and looked at the tip of it before popping the rest into his mouth, grinning as he licked the melted ice cream from his fingers. “So,” he started, gesturing at the ice cream stand, “you close this thing down when you take a break?”

I gathered what wits I had left and nodded. “Yeah, I close the front and sit outside, maybe have a smoke. Why?”

Georg looked at the sky before asking, “Getting close to break time?” 

I swear, I didn't get where he was going with this, but I looked at the clock mounted next to the cone dispenser. “Uh, in about an hour, but I can--”

"Take it early,” he said. 

Now I didn't know this guy real well, but by the look in his eye, I knew he was up to something. And he was.

Next thing I knew, Georg was at the side of the stand, his knuckles tapping softly at the door when the handle didn't turn for him. I kept it locked, you know, just in case. You never know, right? But I never unlocked that door as fast as I did then. As soon as it disengaged, Georg was slipping through and closing the door behind him.

"Close the front,” he said. His voice was low and warm and I didn't even question him. I pulled down the metal slats that covered the front of the stand during breaks and overnight. As soon as the bottom clanged against its mate and closed things up, Georg had me turned around by the shoulders, my back hitting the door behind me.

"What are you--?” I tried to ask what the hell he was doing, but his hand snaked around the back of my neck and pulled me down to him, and his lips stifled my words and stole what little breath I had left. And man, did I kiss him back. I didn't wait for him to try to get his tongue into my mouth—hell, I _couldn't_ wait for him to do it. Not when I could do it first. So I did. The tip of my tongue slid across the crease of his lips once or twice and then I was inside, my tongue slicking over his and sliding against his teeth. I tilted my head, changing the angle, and bore down on him. He was shorter than me but every inch of him solid, and he even had muscles in his _hips_ that moved under my hands as we kissed. Finally, breathing became more necessary than tasting him, and I had to pull back.

His eyes were hooded and dark as he gazed up at me in the grey light inside the stand. He panted and his fingers skimmed the waistline of my trunks. “Want you,” he whispered, and even the slight grit in his voice got me going. “Been thinking about you.” 

I heard myself start to moan and I cut it short, thinking about him walking out there on the beach...wanting me, thinking about me...with his girlfriend right next to him. I turned my head, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to think about what we'd just been doing, and blew a lungful of air out of my nose. 

"Wait,” I said, and he pulled back a hair further. I glanced back at him, then tilted my head toward the front of the shack. “What about your girlfriend?”

His brows lowered in confusion. “What girlfriend?”

I tried not to roll my eyes and tried not to listen to my dick, which was damn near screaming in my pants about not giving a shit about some girl, who the hell cares, let's just get _laid_ , man! Still, just because I was horny didn't mean I lost my morals.

"The girl I always see you with. Yellow bikini, fake tan...bleached blond,” I said, trying not to sound catty. Because I wasn't jealous at all, of course.

"Oh,” Georg said, nodding. “Her.” His hands moved down my neck and over my shoulders, fingers teasing down my chest, and my breath stuttered inside of it until I could only grit out,

"Yeah, her. I can't--”

"She's not my girlfriend,” Georg said with a chuckle. I raised my brows in disbelief. No, of course not. But Georg continued, “She's not my girlfriend, she's my sister. I'm taking summer classes at UCLA and I don't have class on Friday, so I bring her to the beach. Dude, she's sixteen.”

I looked at him for a moment, waiting for the shutter to go over his eyes, the one that said he was full of shit and he was going to try to get in my pants if it meant telling me that his father was the Pope and his mother, the Queen of Sheba. But that look didn't come. His face was open, his eyes honest, and I took a chance. 

With a moan that wouldn't be held back, I kissed him. I bent my head and kissed him hard, and he gave back as good as he got, sucking my lip between his, laving it with his tongue before dipping into my mouth. He tasted good, like the ice cream I'd just served him and summer sun. I never wanted it to stop.

But then he did. He stopped and kissed his way across my jaw, light puffs of panted air moving over my skin and raising goosebumps on my arms. The man knew how to kiss! I felt him slip the tips of his fingers in the sides of my swim trunks and toy with the edges.

"Can I?” He whispered, his voice gritty near my ear.

Things were moving pretty fucking fast, but I swear to God, an entire football team and the whole damn squad of Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders couldn't have made me say no to him. 

I nodded. “Yeah.” He looked at me from under his eyelashes and smirked while I tried hard to pretend my voice didn't squeak. “Shut up,” I said, and pushed my hands under his shirt to distract him. 

His skin was soft but the muscles underneath were hard and tense, and his pecs twitched as I cupped my hand over them and my palms rubbed against his peaked nipples. His jaw clenched and he looked like he was going to fucking devour me right there. Maybe I should have been more scared, then, when he dropped to his knees and yanked my pants down to the floor as he went. I wasn't. My shoulder blades hit the door and my hips thrust out as he grabbed my ass and pulled me to him. The hands that had been so busy exploring under his shirt flailed from lack of me knowing where the hell to put them, until I finally settled them on either side of his head as he gazed up at me.

I was so hard that the head of my cock was swollen purple and shiny with precome that slicked over Georg's lips every time he tapped it against them. My breath was coming in short pants, the anticipation making my groin tingle and my balls pull up before he'd even gotten started.

"Ready?” he asked, his tongue teasing out and flicking at the tender underside of my dick, but before I could even remember what words were to find an answer, he swallowed me whole.

I don't mean to say he just went gangbusters and sucked my dick down hard and fast. No, it wasn't like that. He swallowed me whole, but damn if he didn't do it slowly and so sensually in one long slide, until I could feel myself straining at the back of his throat. I thought he was going to go even further, but he didn't. He pulled back, closed his eyes and breathed out a rough moan that had me wanting to surge forward again and again. 

I didn't have to. Swirling his tongue around the tip, Georg took a breath and sucked me down again. Strong fingers squeezed the cheeks of my ass, kneading them as he found a rhythm that had my toes curling. The blowjob was wet and I could see spittle on his chin as he worked me over, getting everything wet and slippery and it was the hottest fucking thing I'd ever seen.

And then he let my ass go with one hand, bringing it around and circling my dick with it, jerking me as he sucked, and I knew that was it. His palm, wet with spit, squeezed around me as it met his lips again and again and my legs tightened so hard I thought I'd get a cramp. I wouldn't have cared. All I cared about was that he was gonna make me come so fucking hard, and I wondered vaguely if he would pull off or if he'd take it--

That was all it took. My ass clenched, my knees trembled and my fingers fisted his perfect, straight hair, and it was everything I could do to clip out the warning I didn't want to give, “Hey...hey, stop. I'm gonna...”

Sucking hard one last time, Georg pulled off of me. His grip tightened on my cock as he jerked faster, murmuring hot breath against the head, “Yeah, come. Come on.” He opened his mouth and let his tongue lie against his bottom lip, looking so wet and hot and I blew. Making noises I'd only heard in porn videos before, I shot pulses of milky come over his lips and tongue and watched it drip down his chin, and I thought my knees were going to buckle right there. 

When I dropped my head back against the door and closed my eyes, trying to get my breathing under control, I felt him let go of me and move away. I heard a rustle of clothing and peeked at him between slitted lids. He had slipped off his shirt and was wiping his face with it, working around a toothy grin.

"That was incredibly rude of me, I'm sorry,” he said with a chuckle when he was done.

I felt my eyes widen. “Rude? You just...how can that be rude?” I stammered, bending down quickly to pull up my shorts.

"I just attacked you and never even asked your name.” I'd swear he blushed a little as he shifted on his feet and balled up his tee shirt. “I always just thought of you as the ice cream guy. You know, when I...” he trailed off and dropped his eyes to the side.

He was bashful! I couldn't believe that the guy who'd been flirting so hard with me and licked that cone right in front of me with such _decadence_ was actually standing in front of me all bashful. My laugh came out too loud in the small stand, and he looked up, startled.

"At least I had a name to come to,” I said boldly, and didn't even stifle my grin. “My name's Tom.”

"Tom,” he repeated, matching my grin and shifting again. “Look, um--”

"Wait,” I said, not meaning to cut him off, but he'd just sucked me dry and I hadn't even really touched him yet. I wanted my mouth around him. Fair is fair, right? “Don't I get to return the favor?”

"Oh,” he breathed. “I was hoping we'd have time for that later, maybe. If you still wanted to, that is.” 

"Later?” The thought that there might be more of something like this in store for later had my groin muscles tightening.

"Yeah,” he answered. “I was hoping I could come back around—wait, what time are you done here?”

"Six.”

"I could come back around six and take you to dinner. What do you think?” He stopped his fidgeting and took a step toward me. 

What did I think? I thought that I still couldn't think when he was looking at me like that. I didn't really have to, though, because it was a no-brainer. Hell yeah, he could take me out to dinner! 

"Yeah,” I answered, and his smile widened. “That'd be amazing. Wait a minute, though. I thought you were a poor college student. UCLA can't be cheap.” My hands smoothed up his arms as his palms cupped my hips.

He chuckled. “I said I was a college student. I didn't say I was a poor one.” And then he leaned up and kissed me again, and you know, I didn't have anything else to say.

Except man, I fucking love L.A.


End file.
